


Your brain is my favorite museum.

by AMillionYearsForWhat



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Art Student Mingyu, Dance Captain Soonyoung, I'm so soft for protective wonwoo, M/M, Philosophy student Wonwoo, Will tag as I go along, brief mention of anxiety, cute artist mingyu, even though he acts like soonyoung annoys him, fall/winter feels, soonyoung works SO HARD, wanted to get this first chapter posted in time for halloween, wonwoo is protective of soonyoung, you know my multifandom ass had to throw some of my other favorite dancers in there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMillionYearsForWhat/pseuds/AMillionYearsForWhat
Summary: People at Wonwoo's school don't realize there's a part of the library that actually holds books. That's where you can find Wonwoo, flipping through books every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 4 P.M. On Halloween, Wonwoo finds a drawing of himself on his table, no one around to claim the art.Okay,Wonwoo decided,there might be other people who know about the books in the library.OrArtist!Mingyu leaves secret drawings of Wonwoo on his table, and Philosophy major! Wonwoo can't figure out who pays this much attention to what sweater he's wearing.





	1. Easy Guess.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my first Seventeen fic, although it's definitely not a new ship to me. I have SO, SO many fics planned, including several Seventeen pairings. I've had this idea for a long time! I was up all night thinking about Mingyu's art and was inspired to write this. There are a lot of fics similar to this one since the "secret admirer" trope is a very large one, but I'm not at all in the business of plagiarism. Anyway, thank you SO much for reading uwu!!! You can find me on twitter @uwujunhao

_The wind is more harsh than usual_ , Wonwoo noticed as he pulled the cardigan across his chest. His button-up wasn’t doing much to break the cold, and the coffee stain just below the fourth button was just noticeable to make him anxious. His backpack weighed heavily against his spine, providing him with the bare minimum warmth across his back. He tried not to hunch down into himself, not wanting to look like every other person turtling into their jackets while crossing campus. He allowed the ends of his sweater to cover his knuckles as he gripped the door handle, immediately stepping into the warmth of the library. The front part of the library was probably the most ordinary. The coffee shop was located on the left, by the entrance. Easy for students to grab a quick drink on their way in or out. The information desk was situated across the lobby from the coffee shop, and the computer rooms stemmed out from there. The vast majority of students worked in the computer labs - everything being so technical - but Wonwoo preferred to work in a different area. The back of the library, although a large area, was often forgotten to the majority of students; it was the part that actually held the books. Students didn’t actually check out books or look at them for reference. It was never crowded, not even during exams. In Wonwoo’s opinion, that made it even better. He was surrounded by books, and there were less distractions. Better yet, the back area had full-length windows on the far wall. Wonwoo was always excited to watch the leaves change colors, eventually painting the ground in reds and oranges and yellows. It was going to be winter soon, less and less color painting the trees, and Wonwoo was ~~not so~~ secretly excited to watch small puffs of snow fall as he reads. He loved when the air turned brisk and his breath turned into fog; it made him feel alive, more aware of himself and his surroundings. Everyone else mourned the loss of summer, but not Wonwoo. He anticipated it.

It was about a month and a half into the semester; his course load started to pick up. More and more often, Wonwoo began to find himself wandering into the library after his last class. Class would end, and Wonwoo would walk in fifteen minutes later. Like clockwork. The liberal arts building was exactly a ten minute walk, and he’d spend five minutes ordering his coffee - black, two sugars. He always brought his own mug, black with the white outline of cat whiskers. His sweater sleeves ended up over his knuckles as he took the first sip, and then he’d get set up for his study session. He always sat in the same seat; _no_ , it didn’t have his name on it, but Wonwoo never had to fight anyone for it. He approached the table, not surprised at the empty tables surrounding his preferred one. If the student body ever realized the value of this part of the library, Wonwoo would be out of his second home. As sad as it was, Wonwoo appreciated that the tables around him stayed unoccupied. The comfortable armchairs that lined up against the windows had a rotating cast of residents, but his studying was never interrupted. Wonwoo finished setting up everything for him to start his work when his pocket started vibrating. _Thank god I kept my phone on silent,_ Wonwoo thought to himself as he stood up from the table, dragging himself to the hallway where he wouldn’t disrupt the few other people scattered around the library. He sat on the cushioned bench in the hall, not allowing himself to get too comfortable. This would be a short phone call. “Hello, Soonyoung.” 

“No honorifics? Wonwoo, am I not your hyung?” Wonwoo heard Soonyoung pouting through the phone. Wonwoo replied with a sigh, crossing one of his arms under the other.  
“You’re older by what, a month? I was about to study, _hyung_ , so if you’ll please excuse me-”

“Waaaait, wait wait wait wait-”  
Wonwoo let out a deep sigh, and Soonyoung took it as his cue to speak.

“Do you remember that dance captain audition from last week?”  
“You mean the one you’ve been stressing over for the past millennia? Yes, Soonyoung, I’m vaguely familiar.”

“I fucking made it, Wonwoo.”  
“Really?” Wonwoo sat up straight, absolutely beaming at his best friend’s news - not that he needed to know that, “I told you that you’d get it, didn’t I?”

-

Wonwoo couldn’t remember a time when Soonyoung didn’t love to dance. The boy skipped classes in high school to practice, and Wonwoo had to go behind him and tell his teachers that he was sick. Wonwoo knew the teachers respected him as a quiet, well-liked student. He was only tardy once, freshman year. 

Wonwoo’s last class was across the school, but he had overheard a junior talking about a shortcut behind the school that cut out the traffic of the main hallway. It was lightly raining the day he decided to test it out, but it wasn’t enough of a bother for Wonwoo to use his umbrella. He heard yelling - not unusual for a high school - disregarding it as one of the senior couples fighting. _Typical_. He turned a corner, following the noises to find one of his classmates, being kicked on the ground against the wall. “Maybe now you’ll stay away from my girlfriend, huh?”

“Get away from him.” Wonwoo spoke before he could weigh the consequences in his head. The boy on the ground glanced up to speak before the guy towering over him kicked him again, causing him to shrink into himself in pain. 

“You need to mind your own business,” the tall guy turned towards Wonwoo, causing Wonwoo to panic. The guy was _built_ , and Wonwoo hadn’t hit a growth spurt like the other fifteen-year-olds then. There was no way he could win this fight, and he knew it. Wonwoo knew he would lose, but he stepped forward anyway, throwing a punch at the aggressor. 

Wonwoo got his ass kicked, but when the guy got bored, walking off into the distance with the umbrella he stole from Wonwoo’s backpack, Wonwoo was able to stand - picking up his classmate who had long since blacked out. At the nurse’s office, he found out that his name was Soonyoung, when his younger brother Chan ran into the room with tears in his eyes. He blamed himself for encouraging his brother to join the school’s dance team. Soonyoung got too close to one of his female dance team members, and her boyfriend sent a brutal message. Soonyoung tried to buy Wonwoo lunch for the next year to make up for it, but Wonwoo never let him. 

Wonwoo had always been protective of Soonyoung, always supporting him in the background of everything he ever did. They lived together in a humble apartment on the edge of town, still only ten minutes from campus. Wonwoo liked walking. He walked to school, never using the readily available public transportation. It would be quicker, of course, if he just hopped on the bus across the street from his apartment complex. He never did. Instead, he dealt with the weather as it came - rainy, sunny, cold, hot. It gave him time to think and slow down when the rest of his day was forced to be fast-paced and loud. His classes required a lot of reading in a short amount of time, so he wasn’t able to properly enjoy the literature. He knew this when he chose philosophy as his major, but walking gave him time to contemplate and make sense of things. He loved living with Soonyoung, but he could be... wild, at times. It made it hard to focus. 

-

“Wonwoo, they could have easily chosen someone else. I had some pretty fierce competition. You remember that Taeyong tried out, right?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a SENIOR, Wonwoo. He has more experience, and everyone thought they’d pick him.”

“But they didn’t, hyung. They chose you, and I absolutely understand their decision. We’re only sophomores, but you have just as much talent as he does. You deserve this, Soonyoung, one hundred percent of it. You were born for this. You’ve _worked hard_ for this,” Wonwoo added, making sure to emphasize his crazy work ethic. Coming home in the early morning from the studio, usually only sleeping three hours before it was time for class. Wonwoo wasn’t one to pry; however, he knew Soonyoung had been stressing over this audition since he found out that the captain, Jongin, was graduating. Everyone knew Jongin and Taeyong were close, coming from the same high school. He was an automatic favorite. Wonwoo took care of him from behind the scenes, packing a lunch for him and sneaking it into his backpack. One day, Soonyoung came home crying after a particularly hard practice. Wonwoo knew the remedy was Japanese food and a SHINee music video marathon, and he was happy to oblige. 

“It’s Halloween, and I have a hot date tonight with my best friend and Michael Myers. What are you up to?” Wonwoo decided to speak up after Soonyoung fell quiet, probably too embarrassed to say anything.

“I dunno,” Soonyoung mumbled as if his mouth was full, and it probably was, “I’m going trick-or-treating.”

“You don’t like sweets! Quit playing around!”

Wonwoo felt a breeze behind him as someone passed him to leave the library, “I need to get off here, okay? I’ll be home in a while. Don’t watch anything without me.”

Soonyoung gave him a ‘yeah, yeah, study well, bye’ and hung up before Wonwoo could say anything. _Rude,_ he would have thought - but this was Soonyoung. Wonwoo knew him better than anybody. 

He pocketed his phone again, making his way back to the table. 

Something was different, out of place. Didn’t belong. 

A piece of paper laid on the table, face down. Wonwoo eyed the paper curiously, not sure what kind of prank this was - not even sure if it was a prank or who would even pull it. No one in the library seemed interested in Wonwoo’s situation, most of them buried in their phones instead of the books piled beside them. He decided to sit, keeping an eye on the people sitting around him. None of them were close enough to be suspicious, so Wonwoo was able to suspect everyone and no one simultaneously. He grasped the edge of the paper, taking a deep breath before he flipped it, and _oh_. He was _not_ prepared for that.

It was him. A drawing of him, anyway, and Drawing Wonwoo was wearing the same outfit as real Wonwoo. He was holding a pumpkin with a carved cat on the side. _Okay, so they know I like cats._ He stared at the coffee mug, still steaming the slightest bit, with the cat whiskers on it. His attention moved to the cat stickers on the back of his laptop. Alright, easy guess, but who?

Wonwoo glanced around the library again, but there was no obvious answer waiting for him. He knew he would get nothing done if he spent the rest of the night searching for the artist, so he took a big sip of his coffee and an even bigger breath. He willed away the blush filling his cheeks, and he set to work on his research project.


	2. The game begins.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo tells Soonyoung, makes friends with the coffee shop employees, and loses his mind because of a stray hair. Enjoy!

“Something is bothering you. Tell me.”

Wonwoo had just walked into the kitchen when Soonyoung stepped in front of Wonwoo, blocking his access to the coffee. Wonwoo shot him an annoyed look. Soonyoung just raised his eyebrows in a silent reply. Wonwoo hated when his morning thoughts were interrupted - especially when they were being plagued by some 7” x 5” drawing - and telling Soonyoung was out of the question.

 

“The only thing bothering me is that you’re blocking me from having my coffee. A terrible decision on your part, honestly.”

Soonyoung understood the danger that came with blocking Wonwoo from coffee, so he sat down at the table, uncapping his bottle of water, “I just want to help.”

“You want to be _nosy_ , but I can understand how you got the two confused.”

“I can only help if I’m nosy, though, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo paused, nodding. Staring down into his coffee, he felt himself losing his resolve. He knew this would be a bad decision, but he hated lying, especially when it’s Soonyoung. Still, it took him thirty more seconds and a giant sip of his coffee before he could even begin, “I found something on my table in the library, but I don’t know who put it there.”

Soonyoung blinked, his eyebrows knitting as he tried to understand where this conversation was going. Wonwoo knew Soonyoung would just keep staring at him, so he continued, “A drawing.”

“You found... a drawing. On your table. In the library. The library table had a drawing. I’m missing the big deal.”

“It was a drawing of me.”

Soonyoung choked, the water he was attempting to swallow now dripping down his face; Wonwoo sighed deeply, recognizing the mistake he had just made. Quickly, though, Soonyoung recovered, still wiping at the water pooling on his t-shirt, “Someone drew you? They put it on your table, but you somehow didn’t see who did it?”

“I left to answer your call last night, and it was there when I got back. If I knew who it was, I wouldn’t be so confused. But Soonyoung, I have _no fucking idea_ who would’ve drawn this. I don’t even know anyone who can draw, especially not like this. It... was really cute. Even beyond that, though - it was _good_. Like, there was no doubt that it was me they had drawn. It wasn’t a huge picture, but the details - they must have taken forever. Here’s the thing, though - and it’s _really_ bothering me - it was my first time wearing that sweater. They even included the fucking coffee stain on my shirt. It wasn’t like they had drawn it before or spent a super long time on it. It was done on the spot, but I didn’t even notice anyone else in the library. If I had been paying attention, I would’ve caught on. I don’t understand what kind of prank this is.”

Soonyoung’s expression softened the slightest bit, tightening the cap on his water before letting his arms go limp in his lap, “Oh my god. You’re actually flustered about this, aren’t you?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, refilling his coffee mug before heading towards the living room. Soonyoung grabbed his wrist, pulling him back into the kitchen, “Not so fast, kid. Listen, I don’t think it’s a prank, Won. For pranks, you hide their shoes or put “kick me” stickers on their back. You don’t draw a super cute picture of the person and then leave it anonymously.” 

“First of all, Soonyoung, those sound like really lame pranks. Second of all, I have no other reasoning for this, so a prank is really the only sort of explanation I have currently. I always go to the library after classes, so I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

“I don’t know what would be weirder - if there’s another picture or if there isn’t one. Either someone just wanted to prank you in the sweetest way ever or it’s something more than that. Neither option really makes sense. Keep me posted, though.” 

A moment of silence passed, but Wonwoo knew Soonyoung had something else to say. Soonyoung sucked in his bottom lip, nodding to himself as if trying to find the courage when Wonwoo finally speaks up, “What is it?”

“Can I see it? I’m so curious, Won, _please_.”

“Absolutely the hell not,” Wonwoo stood up straight, walking away as Soonyoung whined behind him. Wonwoo’s silence served as answer enough, so the older boy ended up dropping it. 

\--

Wonwoo couldn’t tell if he was excited or fucking terrified for today. Regardless of what emotion was racing through his blood, he couldn’t keep his hands still if his life depended on it. His backpack got heavier and heavier as the semester carried on, his research project not even halfway complete yet. He never procrastinated this badly, but he wanted to spend as much time in the library as possible. Soonyoung always clowned him for having his assignments done way earlier than they were due. Now here he was, standing in front of the library, slightly shaking - from the cold, he convinced himself - after having done nothing the day before. _So this is how low I sink._

Mug in hand, Wonwoo made eye contact with the manager, a black-haired man with gentle eyes and a kind smile, the smallest bit shorter than Wonwoo. He didn’t even need to open his mouth to order; the manager’s smile and wave was understanding enough. He turned to the _tiny_ boy running the cash register, whispering something in his ear while pointing at Wonwoo. The manager stood then, motioning for Wonwoo to step up and taking Wonwoo’s mug as he set it down, “We’re going to take care of this one, okay?” 

The cashier just smiled nervously as the manager opened two sugar packets, “I should probably introduce myself since I’m new here. I’m Jihoon, and I’m a sophomore.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo internally cursed himself for being so awkward, “I’m Wonwoo, and I’m also a sophomore. What’s your major?”

“He wants to major in music, but he’s currently majoring in business because of his parents,” the manager interrupted, giving a sad look to Jihoon as he handed Wonwoo his mug, full of his precious coffee. 

“Seungcheol doesn’t understand that I can’t just defy my parents. I have a responsibility to them. I’m just happy to be here.”

“No, you have a responsibility to be true to yourself,” the manager - Wonwoo guessed he’s Seungcheol - held Jihoon by the shoulders, gazing into his eyes.

“I think he’s right,” Wonwoo agreed, unintentionally stopping their sweet moment, “you should do what makes you happy.”

“Thank you, Wonwoo. Anyway, happy studying!” Seungcheol flashed him a wide smile and a small wave before pulling Jihoon to the back, whispering something along the lines of ‘I’ve told you, Jihoon, you can’t let your parents-’

Wonwoo silently thanked the heavens that he didn’t have to make up an excuse to get to his table. It had taken longer than he intended, but he felt the nervousness sink back into his system. _Oh, right,_ he thought, _the table._

Wonwoo’s pace started slow, but he ended up speed walking as soon as he reached the entryway to the book room. Wonwoo closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as his eyes fell on his table. The table with a small, blank paper on it. 

Cautiously, Wonwoo stepped toward his table, setting his backpack and coffee on the empty spot beside the paper. Blank? He took his seat quickly, stealing another deep breath before flipping the paper over. _Holy shit_.

It was Wonwoo, again. This drawing featured his yellow pullover and his round glasses, the sleeves pulled over his knuckles as he held a book in his hands. There was no title on the book he was reading, but Wonwoo recognized it as one of the books he checked out on Monday to include in his research. The quality was something Wonwoo had never seen before, and it scared him. In his head, he crossed out the idea of it being a prank, but he failed to piece together any other thoughts. Wonwoo couldn’t send away the blush that filled his cheeks, and he hid his face into his sweater sleeve until the heat dissipated. 

It was a solid ten minutes before Wonwoo even dared to reach into his backpack for his study materials. It was his mission to make it seem like he was unaffected by the ridiculously accurate colors of the drawing or the so-messy-it’s-neat lines that were inked onto the paper - and, _okay_ , he was failing miserably. How was he supposed to focus when there was someone in this world who actually cared to include the small hair out of place? Wonwoo suddenly smoothed his hand through his hair, making sure there were no hairs out of place. He could’ve _sworn_ he heard someone laugh, but when he looked up, there wasn’t anyone paying attention to him. The boy hated the feeling that he was a step behind, so he pulled out a post-it note - light blue, the pastel kind that Wonwoo impulsively comfort-bought one day after getting an unsatisfactory quiz grade. Unsatisfactory by his standards, of course. Any other student would have gladly taken a 90, but for Wonwoo, it wasn’t the A+ for which he had studied the entire weekend.

 

Yet, here he was - too distracted by a drawing to get his assignments done. 

There had been no name on the drawings, no claim to them - and that made Wonwoo put his post-it note down. When they are ready - whoever they are - they’ll either stop or they’ll reveal their identity. It was a game of patience, Wonwoo realized.

He suddenly had an overwhelming feeling that he was going to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading!!! I'm really excited to be able to write again now that I'm finished with my classes this semester. I will try my hardest to write more now (: I can't promise quick or regular updates, but I can promise you won't have to wait 2 months for an update now. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Bully me on Twitter @uwujunhao


	3. black and white and everything else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu learns about optics.

“Honestly, if you don’t have a lawsuit pending against you by this time tomorrow, I’ll be impressed.”

“It’s not creepy, Minghao! Stop saying stuff like that before I punk out.”

“You can’t. You’ve been thinking about this for a month and a half, you fool.”

“YOU JUST SAID IT WAS CREEPY.”

“I never directly called it creepy, Mingyu. I’m just saying - this is how episodes of Criminal Minds start.”

“Okay, I won’t do it.”

“But you HAVE to. Besides, he can’t get a restraining order on someone whose identity he doesn’t even know.”

Mingyu’s face buried into his hands, a deep sigh escaping his mouth. Minghao crossed his legs and ran a hand across the taller boy’s back. “It’ll be okay. You’ve already given him one. If you really want to stop, he’ll probably just think it was a one-time prank and forget about it.”

“I gave him the second one today.”

“A second one? You didn’t _tell me_ about a second one? You didn’t even tell me how the first one went. What was his reaction?”

“I-I... maybe left the library before I could see his reaction. I didn’t want to know what he thought.” 

Minghao’s brain tried to process the words, but he just responded with an expression of pure shock. “You LEFT?! Mingyu, you are the only freshman to _EVER_ be displayed in the campus gallery. You haven’t even finished your first semester, and you’ve already received one of the greatest honors in the major. All this, and you’re worried about what some guy is going to think about your drawing?”

“He’s not just some guy, Minghao. It’s Jeon Wonwoo. You’re acting like you didn’t drunk cry over that Junhee guy last Friday-”

“-It’s Jun _hui_ -”

“-in public. Minghao, you’re in no place to be judging me. At least I’m _trying_.”

“I’m on the dance team with Jun. I’m not _not_ doing anything. Besides, I cry in Chinese. You only knew because I told you before I was drunk. That isn’t the point, though. Details. Second picture. Let me see.”

Minghao rolled his eyes at Mingyu’s exasperated sigh and patiently waited for the picture that he knows Mingyu took. Mingyu _always_ photographed his works, a mixture of wanting to document his progress as an artist and the lingering fear that he’ll never see the piece again. He scrolled to the picture, leaning over to show his best friend. Minghao shook his head upon seeing the picture, “Mingyu, you’re an absolute idiot. This is so fucking good. So what did he say?”

“Okay, so I just left it on the table. I didn’t actually hand it to him,” and he put up a finger to hush Minghao, who was a split second away from interrupting, “he blushed. He fucking blushed and hid his face for like ten minutes, and I have never seen anything in my life as cute as him. Don’t say it-”

“WHIPPED,” Minghao beamed up at Mingyu and hit his shoulder as he giggled, “you are so gone for this kid, Mingyu. Still don’t understand how you even know this guy.”

“He’s older than us, Minghao. He isn’t a ‘kid’.”

Minghao stopped hitting Mingyu, ticking his head to the side and sighing dramatically, “Okay, that’s gotta be Soonyoung’s fault. He calls everyone ‘kid’, and we all started saying it ironically. Now I can’t stop. Remember when we started dabbing to make fun of BamBam and then we couldn’t stop? It’s that instant karma. But anyway. You owe me an explanation. How did you even find this guy? Does he even know you exist?”

Mingyu had to stop for a second. Bringing his hands up to hide his face, Mingyu blushed furiously, “I’ve told you this story before. Do you not remember?”

Minghao ran a hand through his hair before leaning his head into his palm - a thoughtless move that nonetheless accentuated his natural beauty, “What day was that?”

 

“Literally the day it happened. Orientation day? Like, three months ago? We were in different groups at orientation, but we met up at the dining hall and I told you about it. That was the day you met with the dance team for the first time.” 

“Wait... you ate with me at the dining hall? I thought it was just Jun and me?”

Mingyu tilted his head, his expression filled with disbelief, “You seriously don’t remember? I was there with you two. I even interrupted you two after you switched to Chinese and I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on.”

Minghao’s eyes lit up, a small ‘oh’ shape on his lips, and he nodded to display his understanding, “Okay, I remember that, but if you told me about this dude, I can’t remember it. Do tell again.”

Mingyu sighed in frustration, but he was secretly excited to retell the story. He loved the way that memory feels, warm in his chest and crystal clear in his mind. Remembering that day was Mingyu’s motivation for that first drawing, but he fueled himself on the hopes that someday he wouldn’t have to hide from Wonwoo. He dreamed of the day he would finally speak to him, the day he wouldn’t have to miss the depth of the older boy’s voice.

“It was when they gave us campus tours. You know how they have representatives of each major outside each building to give a tour of the building and talk about the classes? My group started on the other side of campus, so we ended up at the liberal arts building pretty close to the end of the tour. It was getting late, and you know how beautiful campus can be when the sun is setting. He was the representative for liberal arts, and I swear to god, I’ve never seen anyone look _that damn good_. His hair was the slightest bit curly, and there was this small smile on his lips. It was an awkward smile - like he hadn’t really done it before - but it was still so soft and genuine. He told us he’s a philosophy major and that he wasn’t actually the official representative for the liberal arts college. He was just covering for some guy named Josh who’s an English major. His voice, Minghao, I don’t know how I’ll ever get it out of my head. I just asked a question about the classroom numbers because I wanted to hear him talk.”

“You probably sounded really dumb, just asking about the room numbers. You don’t even have classes in the liberal arts building this semester,” Minghao stated, before adding, “but how did you know he goes to the library? Did you stalk him?”

Mingyu leaned back into his chair, folding his arms across his chest indignantly, “For your information, Minghao, I had heard from an upperclassman that the back of the library is a really good place to get inspiration. There are chairs right beside the windows, so I just sat there, observing-”

“- a little creepy-” Minghao quipped and quickly blocked the elbow that was coming in his direction.

“ _observing the weather outside the window_. I didn’t even notice him sitting there for, like, two weeks. I was in the coffeeshop grabbing my coffee when I saw him walk in. You know my gay ass panicked, so I pretended to look at gift cards while he ordered. I just happened to see where he sat when I walked back to my chair. Then he was there again. And again. 4 PM. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It was almost like part of my routine - work on my assignments until 4, then look up and draw from my true inspiration.”

Mingyu glanced over at his Chinese friend, whose face had softened as his bottom lip was trapped between his teeth. Minghao gave himself a tiny nod, his eyes finally reaching up to Mingyu’s. His hand found its way to the taller boy’s shoulder, and his voice was the slightest bit above a whisper, “Mingyu, I’m really glad you’ve found someone who makes you feel like this. Every artist has a muse. Maybe you’ve found yours. I just worry, y’know? You don’t even know if he’s gay. What if he’s actually an asshole? What if he hates pineapple on pizza?”

Mingyu scoffed, but his smile revealed a small glimpse of his teeth. “I just want you to be careful, Mingyu. You’re my best friend. I clown you a lot, but it’s because I love you. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, but it sets you up sometimes. Remember the time you ordered Chinese food every night for two weeks because you thought the delivery guy looked lonely and needed a friend? I’m literally Chinese and even _I_ don’t eat that much Chinese food. Listen, kid-”

Mingyu shot him a look.

“Listen, you overgrown puppy. Maybe you should talk to him. Make a move of some sort. Just reach out enough to find out if you’re going to get your heart broken or not. He’s pretty, but if he hurts you, I am obligated to beat his ass.”

Another look shot his way.

“Or give him a strongly worded letter.”

\--

The window to his dorm room allowed in a breeze, freezing cold as it carried the autumn leaves through the night. The stars were brighter than normal, and Mingyu nearly forgot his actual task at hand once he got a glimpse of them. Mingyu hated the cold, hated the way it turned the blood in his veins to ice and stole the color from the world. Mingyu saw the world in pops of color - radiant blues pressed against vibrant yellows, red splattered among bold green. He saw little value in shades of grey and had decided that white and black were much too simple to serve as standalone colors. Even in high school, Mingyu always vowed to create his own sunshine, wearing bright oranges or mustard yellow on the dreariest winter days. Never had he worn a plain white t-shirt without layering it with other colorful pieces. White t-shirts were a waste, Mingyu thought. Why waste a perfectly good shirt by leaving it blank?

Then he saw Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo in his plain white t-shirt, the front tucked into his light wash jeans. The rip in the right thigh - the holes in the knees - the simple pair of low-top Chuck Taylors - overwhelming easy on the eyes. Mingyu didn’t need colors to see Wonwoo. He _shined_ , despite not having a single drop of alarmingly bright color on his clothing. That’s when he realized it. Wonwoo was light. The genuine smile he gave the workers at the library coffee shop, the way his shoulders dropped once he reached the back of the library - like a weight had been lifted - the little whispers to himself as he studied. His presence gave off this energy, and it was enough. 

In that energy, Mingyu found the confidence to start the third piece. 

Mingyu didn’t know what time it was when he finished, nor did he really want to check. He was sure it said some ungodly time, and he preferred to lie to himself that it hadn’t been three hours since he sat down with the intention to write his art history paper. No words were inked on the paper in front of Mingyu, just the contrast of black and white. Wonwoo was lying down - Mingyu had only ever drawn from the waist-up - outlined in white against a black background sprinkled with dazzling white stars. He picked up his phone, snapping a picture. Hesitating, Mingyu set his phone down, picking his pen back up. He wrote his thoughts down quickly, putting the picture in his backpack before he could second guess it. 

As he crawled into bed that night, he stared at the window, his eyes meeting the stars that he had once seen in Wonwoo’s eyes.

For the first time, Mingyu’s world made sense in grayscale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always - thank you for reading <3 I love all of the kudos and comments and I'm so sorry for the delay!!! send me something on twitter @uwujunhao


	4. distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been sitting on this chapter for, like, a month. Couldn't get the editing just right. Honestly, still not super duper happy with this, but I can't bear to look at it anymore. So here we go!!
> 
> PS: sorry for the weird POV switches. It was really hard to coordinate in my head, so we have this mess. Whoops :(

The weekend went by too quickly, keeping him busy with at work - archiving in the depths of the research center for hours on end. It was hard to get assignments done with thirty boxes needing to be sorted in three hours. When Wonwoo finally was able to crawl into bed Sunday night, nothing even touched on his desk, guilt creeped into his mind. He had done the reading assignments - that Friday. He would be lying if he said he remembered all of it. Sighing, Wonwoo turned onto his side, trying to focus instead on how good it felt to finally be in bed. His eyes moved up from his desk to the window above it, pulling on the string to the window blinds, lifting them all the way so he could see properly. His eyes traced the outline of the stars that shined so brilliantly despite the city’s light pollution. Wonwoo couldn’t tell if the moon actually looked bigger or if he had just never stopped to notice its size. He thought about the stars - so small but so large - being the suns in their own systems, with their own planets, with their own moons. He wondered how many comets actually existed, traveling among the galaxies without anyone’s knowledge but the universe’s. Wonwoo focused on the moon again, questioning every dip in its surface, every shade of grey that appeared on its surface. He thought about _The Starry Night_ , how Van Gogh saw yellows and blues in a black and white sky. He allowed his curiosity to run - what did the sky look like in 1889? What stars did Van Gogh see, and could he see the same ones? Had someone of them died out? He thought back to the painting. Those stars could never die.

That’s when his mind wandered to the drawings. 

Two of the best drawings Wonwoo had ever seen in person were left anonymously on his study table. _Why the hell would someone not want to claim these?_ He couldn’t help but think. He knew there were easy ways of catching who it was. He could show up early to catch them placing it. He could show up late to see them pick it back up when he didn’t show. He could ask around if anyone had seen them. His mind wandered back to the first drawing, that initial reaction of confusion turned into pure frustration. He had to wait for it, and Wonwoo knew that. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure the artist, almost feeling obligated to keep himself from finding the truth. _Someday,_ he whispered to the stars, _I’ll be able to thank you for your beautiful art._

\-----

The alarm rang sooner than Wonwoo was comfortable with, even though he fully realized that he always woke up at 7 a.m. The sun blinded him from where he had lifted his window blinds the night before, causing him to sit up in bed immediately to dodge the light. Wonwoo realized the dangers that came with hitting the snooze button, so he forced his legs over the side of the bed to hit the floor. He could feel the need for sleep fogging up his head, manifesting in a deep need to ignore his responsibilities and sleep the entire day. His eyelids felt heavier and heavier, and he blinked until he couldn’t keep them open anymore.

Wonwoo woke with a shake, opening his eyes to look at Soonyoung. The older boy was sitting in Wonwoo’s desk chair, setting down a mug beside Wonwoo, “I brought you your coffee. I noticed you weren’t up yet. You’re usually up by 7. Is everything okay?”  
Wonwoo glanced at his alarm clock, a 7:37 glaring back at him. He threw his head back, releasing a louder-than-necessary groan as he fell back onto his bed. 

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘no’. Wonwoo, why don’t you take the day off? Email your professors, then go back to bed. It’ll be okay if you miss one day. Are you feeling sick?” Soonyoung knew how Wonwoo hated feeling babied, not missing the predictable grimace on Wonwoo’s face. The taller boy sat up, shaking his head before picking up his coffee. He sipped a bit, determining whether it wasn’t too hot to drink, then took a long drink. Soonyoung shot him a worried look as he set the mug down, expecting an answer. 

Wonwoo sighed, “I’m not actually sick. I just feel so exhausted. No matter how much sleep I’ve been getting lately, there’s no quality in it. I feel like I just close my eyes for eight hours and wake up with no sleep. But I don’t want to miss classes over something so stupid. Lecture notes are the most important, and if I’m not there, I don’t want to trust Changkyun’s notes. He’s smart, but he doodles some weird shit. Besides, I have a quiz in PHIL 4250 and can’t make it up.”

“Which class is that?”

“Philosophy of gender,” Wonwoo answered, and Soonyoung raised his hands as if creating a barrier.

“Say no more, Feminist Aristotle.”

“Is that the only philosopher you can think of?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Wonwoo smiled at that, shaking his head as he fought the urge to rant on the other important philosophers usually overshadowed by Greek thought. 

“What time is that class?” Soonyoung questioned, checking his watch again to make sure he’d have time to get to his own class. 

“It’s from 2:15 to 3:45. I also have a project for my 19th century philosophy class that needs massive attention. I didn’t do any work on it Thursday _like an idiot_ , and then I was busy working this weekend. I can’t believe I got so behind schedule. You know I hate being distracted.”

Soonyoung hid a scoff, tilting his head as he raised his eyebrows, “Oh, the project not due for like two more months? I think it can wait another day, Won. I don’t ever want to hear you being mad at yourself for resting. Believe it or not, you’re human, and you have to have plenty of sleep and rest in order to function.”

“I’m a human? This is news to me. I am shocked and heartbroken.”   
Soonyoung hit Wonwoo’s shoulder playfully, shoving the taller boy’s phone into his hands, “Email your professors, kid. If you really need to, go to your quiz. Crush it. If you feel better after that, maybe you can spend some time on your project. But please, Wonwoo, don’t push yourself. Let yourself be tired, okay?”

Soonyoung gave Wonwoo a quick pat on the shoulder before standing, pulling together the sun-blocking curtains. _Best purchase ever_ , Wonwoo thought. Soonyoung made his way to the door, not looking back as he made one last comment, “Rest up, kid. You look like shit.”

“Thanks, hyung!” Wonwoo called after him, silently appreciating the playful affection. He allowed himself to fall back into the bed, somehow even more tired than he had been after an entire day of work. He forced his heavy eyelids to stay open long enough to message his professors, then set his alarm for 1 p.m. _I can refresh my memory for the quiz during the walk to class_ , he justified. With that last thought, he finally found sleep. 

\-----

Wonwoo has never regretted making “Bang Bang Bang” his alarm as much as he did in this moment. He had once praised it as one of the only songs that could wake him up without putting him in a bad mood, but now he cursed G-Dragon for being so loud. His clock stated 1 p.m. as he expected, so Wonwoo forced the blankets off of him. The cold air made him stand quickly, running across his room to the closet. He wasn’t aware that he had put his hoodie on without a shirt until he stepped on the sidewalk, the slight itch on his ribs just noticeable to make him uncomfortable. Wonwoo had planned to study for the quiz on the walk to class, but his mind skipped right to the library. He wondered if the table was empty right now or if the artist had already placed their next drawing. What if they thought Wonwoo would try to catch them, so they put it there two hours early? He smiled to himself, shaking his head at the realization that he was speculating too much about this person and his/her/their intentions. _Shake it off_ , Wonwoo told himself, _you have a quiz to worry about_. 

\--

Thanks to Mr. Yang being a fast grader, Wonwoo knew immediately that he had made a 93% on the quiz. For once, he decided he’d allow it. An ‘A’ is an ‘A’, and he owed himself the right to be happy. For this one day, he wouldn’t let stress get to him. He would let himself be proud of his hard work paying off. Wonwoo reached the library sooner than usual, not even acknowledging that he had been speed-walking. He was sure he looked crazy, but his smile reached his eyes and not a single force in the universe could stop it. He was _happy_ , so he set his coffee mug on the counter - along the money necessary to buy a cupcake. When Seungcheol shot him a questioning look, complete with a smile, he just shrugged and smiled back. _Man, I need to sleep more often. This is great._

Wonwoo balanced his cupcake and his coffee, his heavy backpack the furthest thing from his mind as he walked to his table. Surely enough, a piece of paper was there, but it wasn’t a blank page that Wonwoo met. It was the drawing, black and white, illustrating him among the stars. Wonwoo’s mind wandered to last night, and he almost felt a tear sting his eye. _Someday, I’ll be able to thank you_ , he had said. He meant it. Wonwoo wasn’t a particularly patient person. If anything, he was just as stubborn as Soonyoung. He simply lacked the volume or expendable energy. But when he considered how long he might have to wait for the artist to reveal themself, he didn’t see it as a burden. He would wait, for as long as he had to. For as long as the artist needed. Wonwoo stared some more at the art in front of him, analyzing the contrast of the white and black, the almost invisible sketch marks. Wonwoo felt a warmth spreading from his chest, and it reached his face in a ear-to-ear smile. He didn’t know whether the artist was there, but he decided not to look up - just in case - wanting to demonstrate that he wouldn’t look for them until they were ready. Catching his attention was the tiniest arrow at the bottom of the page, pointing at the edge of the paper. Wonwoo mindlessly traced it with his finger before flipping the paper over, hoping he didn’t look as dumb as he feared. 

Waiting for Wonwoo was neat handwriting - but Wonwoo could tell it was written by someone with messy handwriting who wanted their message to come across as neat. Wonwoo’s blood ran freezing cold and burning hot at the same time, and he wasn’t able to stop the audible gasp that escaped his mouth. 

_”Why do you bring your laptop with you to the book room when there are four computer labs in the library? -KM”_

Wonwoo didn’t even know where to start. Every working alarm in his brain was sounding off, and he was sure he could feel his ability to function falter. They reached out. They fucking reached out, even though all he has to go on is two letters. In his excitement, he thanked the universe. It was a start, and it was more than he had the day before. He didn’t know whether to interpret the question as genuine curiosity or pure sass. Without being sure, he decided to answer honestly. As dramatically as he could, Wonwoo pulled out a blank piece of paper, writing his reply. God, he hoped this wouldn’t backfire. Risking his image, Wonwoo stood from his seat and raised the folded paper into the air. In an exaggerated move, he sat the paper on the table and pushed in his chair. _Please, universe. Let this work._ With that, he walked out of the book room and into the bathroom.

\-----

Mingyu’s silent alarm lit up his phone, signalling the arrival of 4 p.m. Nervously, he lifted his head to find Wonwoo already moving to sit in his chair. Mingyu felt his sanity leaving when Wonwoo broke into a giant smile, and he could’ve _sworn_ he heard him giggle. Mingyu bit his bottom lip and turned his head toward the window to hide the equally as big smile forcing itself onto his face. After counting backwards from ten and three deep breaths, Mingyu faced Wonwoo again, who flipped over the paper, and _oh my god it’s happening_ , Wonwoo’s eyes went wide at the sight of Mingyu’s question. Immediately, Mingyu hated himself for writing something so _stupid_. Mingyu hurriedly pulled out his phone, scrolling to the picture he had taken of the sentence. He had spent five minutes making sure the handwriting looked good enough, but with a fresh look at it, he dropped his head into his hands. Surely Wonwoo was going to laugh, right? He was going to ignore it, tear it up, or use it as origami practice. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Wonwoo standing up, and it took every fiber of his being to not panic. Wonwoo lifted a folded piece of paper into the air, dramatically setting it down before leaving the book room, turning right to follow the hallway down to the bathroom. Mingyu almost laughed, waiting for the boy to return to his table. 

Five minutes later, he realized something was up. 

Mingyu battled with himself for five more minutes before deciding that there was no way that Wonwoo would’ve put on a show without having a reason. He hesitated, not able to ignore the storm in his stomach at the thought of going close to his table. _We’re going to be strong today, Mingyu. Just do it._ With a last minute “fighting”, Mingyu stood and slowly walked to the table. He pushed back the sensation of his legs going weak beneath him, and he quickened his pace until he was in front of the table. His fingers were shaking, but he managed to unfold the paper. In the most beautiful handwriting he had ever seen was inked a reply. 

_”I’m not sure if you’ll even read this, but please don’t worry about me trying to catch you or something. I set a timer on my phone, and I’ll come out of the bathroom at 4:25. I hope that gives you enough time to see this and reply._

_I’m working on a project! It’s due in two months, but it requires a lot of research. I only use my laptop for typing my paper or adding a slide to the presentation._

_I could ask you the same thing, though. Why do you draw in the book room of a library when there are art rooms on campus? -JW_

_p.s: you don’t have to write your reply neatly. I want to see your actual handwriting, not some stencil.  
P.s.s: don’t take the drawing back, please? I keep all of them, and I really treasure them.” _

Mingyu tried his hardest not to be astonished by Wonwoo’s ability to write so beautifully despite the small size of his handwriting. He considered his own handwriting, too big for its own good, and internally laughed at the apparent cliche. Wonwoo’s small handwriting versus Mingyu’s large handwriting - the universe must be laughing at him. Mingyu pulled out his phone, which flashed a quick ‘4:18’, before Mingyu panicked. Seven minutes to write the perfect reply. Challenge accepted, Jeon Wonwoo. 

He spent the next five minutes writing out his reply, not taking the time to worry about perfecting his handwriting. He folded his reply in half, taking Wonwoo’s reply with him. He had just settled into his chair when Wonwoo slowly walked back to his table. 

\-----

Wonwoo visibly gulped when he noticed the fresh reply on his table, unfolding it gently. The difference between the first note and this one was almost shocking, but he was glad to see KM dropping the illusion of perfect handwriting. 

_“It was plenty of time. Thank you for replying. Your paper ceremony was very dramatic. 10/10, best acting performance of the year. For future reference, there’s no need to exaggerate. You had my attention. I finally gained the courage to watch your reaction, and it was more than I could’ve ever hoped. Thank you so much!_

_Your project isn’t due for another two months, but you’re already working on it? So you’re a nerd? Noted. (A cute nerd, but a nerd nonetheless.)_

_As for your question, I heard the library was a good place to get inspiration for drawing. It just so happens that some beautiful guy spends hours here and gets me distracted. It’s a tragedy, really. I never get to see the sunsets anymore, but that’s okay. Maybe I prefer seeing you anyway._

_It wasn’t really enough time to draw anything big, but here’s a stick figure version of you! That’s a cupcake in your hand. Not that you can really tell._

_Thank you, JW. I’ll be in touch again soon, if it’s okay with you. If you decide this isn’t something you’re interested in, throw the next message away. I’ll understand._

_Now enough with the distractions. Back to work._

_JW, fighting!_

_-KM”_

Wonwoo wasn’t sure what sort of angel had placed this note on his table, but he read it again, and again, and again, and again - and one more time for good measure - before setting it down, replacing it in his hands with the drawing. His fingers traced the stars that surrounded his illustrated body. _Maybe,_ he allowed himself to think, _there’s someone in the universe who has as many questions as I do._ He wrapped himself up in the thought, feeling its warmth fill his chest as he pulled out his books and writing pad. 

There’s work to be done. He knew that. KM knew that. 

And when Wonwoo stopped long enough to take a sip of his coffee, his eyes wandered to the note written out in front of him. 

Perhaps there’s one distraction he doesn’t hate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading, as always!! I've taken a break from Twitter (@uwujunhao), but I always always always love comments!!! It gives me the motivation I need to continue writing :D thanks for making it this far and bearing with the slow updates. You're the best!


	5. thoughts on canvas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when best friends become brothers, words aren't always needed
> 
> this is perhaps maybe possibly a filler chapter sad uwu (enjoy regardless!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't read wonwoo's bit if you're not a fan of reading about anxiety! this was honestly a bit of projection on my part bc whew my anxiety has been super bad lately, but!!! no worries, we'll be back to normal/happy/slightly creepy/but sweet programming soon!

It was rare for them to meet on Tuesdays, but Mingyu specially asked Minghao to meet him in the art building. The private rooms usually filled up ridiculously quickly - especially at noon on a weekday when the largest classes took place. However, due to excellent luck (and a long-lasting friendship with the student worker in charge of the renting, Eunwoo), he was able to secure a room. “Just an hour,” he promised Eunwoo. The older boy heaved a sigh, shoulders visibly rising and then falling before placing the key in Mingyu’s palm. “Just an hour,” Eunwoo’s friendly soul betrayed him, unable to stop a sweet smile from growing on his lips. 

Mingyu gave him a quick bow before racing to the designated room, turning the corner to spot Minghao by the door. He had that _look_ on his face, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, “You told me to meet you here before you actually had the room, didn’t you?”

Mingyu playfully bumped into Minghao’s side while he slipped the key into the lock. “Don’t doubt my skills, Hao,” he shot back, tilting his head the slightest bit and sending a wink. Minghao responded by pushing him into the room. 

“Dibs on the canvas.”

Mingyu gave a nod. He always preferred the table, and Minghao knew that. He said it anyway. 

It always took Minghao a few minutes to set up, and Mingyu thought it was hilarious. Minghao had done art as long as Mingyu could remember, but he still took his time making sure he had all of his supplies in order before starting anything. “I know you want to talk about something. Let me know when you’re ready to talk about it,” Minghao spoke softly, not looking up as he straightened his pencils. 

Mingyu silently thanked his best friend for understanding him so well. He could paint every expression he had ever felt in his life - he could draw pure, unadulterated joy, and he could visualize his lowest lows in watercolors. His world was art, and art was his world. He stayed up till the sun rose to _create_ , and he lost sleep over what those creations could be - a change here, a change there. A tiny addition, a big subtraction. 

What Mingyu couldn’t do was _words_. Thankfully, his best friend understood him. Mingyu whispered a tiny, quick ‘thanks’ before letting the silence fall between them comfortably.

\--

 

“I’ve made my decision.”

Minghao’s ears perked as his attention floated from his charcoal drawing to Mingyu sitting in the chair beside him. 

“I’m going to talk to him.”

Minghao promptly choked on the piece of gum he had been working on for the past five minutes, “You _what_?”

Mingyu, who had spent the past two days thinking about this, felt his confidence buckle under the weight of his friend’s shock, “I gave him a note yesterday - not face-to-face, obviously, but it... went well. It went really well.”

Mingyu couldn’t stop the blush that filled his cheeks at the thought of Wonwoo’s smile, noticing every time Wonwoo had looked to the letter instead of his books. 

“We’ve had this discussion, Gyu. If you think it’s a good idea, I support you entirely. If he hurts you, though, I cannot promise the safety of his kneecaps.” 

Minghao’s face held no hint of bitterness as his hand came to rest on Mingyu’s shoulder, giving a gentle rub when the taller boy sighed. “What did you write him?”

His face burned when he processed his friend’s question, but Mingyu pulled out his phone regardless. Scrolling to the picture of the black and white drawing, Minghao shook his head in pure disbelief. “My god, you are an _artist_ , Kim Mingyu.”

He was used to getting compliments - he received plenty of awards and recognition, shook hands and accepted praise. It was different coming from Minghao, and although his friend was always supportive, he never _freaked out_. That’s what Mingyu loved about him - his simple appreciation never went overboard, never felt fake. When Mingyu got his acceptance letter - and full-ride scholarship - Minghao smiled, gave him a hug, and then asked what he wanted for dinner. There were no candles or confetti. He just made sure to order Mingyu’s favorite dessert then refused to let Mingyu touch the bill. Self-admittedly, he should have warned Minghao about the next picture: the question he asked Wonwoo. He wasn’t sure how Minghao would respond, but before he could even think about it, a giggle ripped out of the smaller boy, his head falling back as his body barely contained his laughter. The younger boy slapped Mingyu’s shoulder before taking a deep breath and laughing _some more_. Eventually, after the enthusiasm in Minghao’s giggles died, Mingyu felt the need to justify, “He replied back, though. I guess he didn’t think it was that stupid.”

Minghao said nothing but held out his palm. Mingyu knew exactly what he wanted. 

A few seconds later, Mingyu presented _the note_ , holding it as if it were treasure. He unfolded it gently, setting it in front of his best friend. Minghao pursed his lips, his wide eyes scanning the note with his eyebrows raised the slightest bit. Within a minute, Minghao let out another laugh, cackling with such fervor that Mingyu wondered if he’d break - and after he wiped a tear from his eye, an explanation - “He really called you out, though. You asked why he brings his computer, but you’re out here drawing in a library. That’s honestly hilarious.”

“Does this mean you finally approve?” Mingyu pouted at his friend, who suddenly cleared his throat and straightened his face.

“I don’t know this boy, so until further notice, I will continue to withhold my approval,” Minghao stated matter-of-factly, but one look into Mingyu’s eyes, and he started to reconsider, “I’ll think about it, okay? Don’t give me that look. I just think this is all surface-level. Don’t forget that he doesn’t know anything about you. I won’t allow you to dedicate your time and attention to someone who doesn’t deserve it.” 

The _’who doesn’t deserve you’_ is implied, and Mingyu eventually caved, resting his head on Minghao’s shoulder. He knows that there’s more to reveal, that this isn’t fair for Wonwoo to not know who he is, but any thought of coming forth was muted by the dread of rejection, of being hated. Minghao was normally right, but he was _especially_ right about Mingyu being sensitive. His heart was TOO big sometimes, and he trusted people too easily. Minghao must have sensed his racing thoughts because he ruffled his friend’s hair lovingly and promptly changed the topic, “You’re an overgrown puppy, and there’s plenty of things to love about you, Gyu. One of those things is your inability to lie to me. So, tell me - how is my drawing coming out?” 

Mingyu carefully folded the letter up, placing into his folder gently before leaning over to examine his best friend’s art. The next forty-three minutes flew by. 

\----

Wonwoo stepped inside his apartment, pressing his back to the door once it clicked shut. The deepest sigh of all time left his chest, eyes slipping shut as he tried to shake off the weight that inevitably piled on his shoulders each day. Usually the ten minute walk was his designated time to organize his thoughts into neat mental folders. It was important: it kept _contemplation_ from turning into a _headache_. However, his mind raced as he kicked at the rocks on the sidewalk, and Wonwoo couldn’t departmentalize. His home should be his haven, his safe place, but Wonwoo can’t keep his brain from bringing up the ongoing list of things to do, always getting longer despite his hard work. He became acutely aware that no one else was having to work as hard as he was, which caused his head to get cloudy as he felt his anxiety worsening. It had been building since his last class ended. His professor released the prompt for an essay due in a week, and Wonwoo couldn’t stop thinking about how much time he was losing. Time just kept _going_ , but Wonwoo just stood at his door, paralyzed by the need to cry. He had this project, these papers, books upon books to read - all these assignments to do, things to study, but the one thing he didn’t have was _time_. He thought about his crowded schedule, thought about how even the weekends didn’t allow him time to catch up. The archives needed so much help, but there weren’t enough workers. It appeared no one wanted to spend their time in the basement of the library, digging through boxes that never seem to end. Wonwoo understood, but he hated that he was doing the work that even an archiving _team_ would struggle to finish.

All this work, no end in sight - it was tiring. _So, so tiring._

Wonwoo could feel his skin prickling, knew that he was about to start feeling his body warm up until it was unbearable, like he was on fire. His knees started to shake, so he crouched to the floor to be closer to the ground when they inevitably gave out. The silence of the apartment ate him up, and though he was grateful that Soonyoung wasn’t there to see him like this, he _needed_ his friend there. If nothing else, then to ground him, stabilize his mental processes until he was capable of calming himself down. Wonwoo was frozen in place - suspended in the chaos of his brain with a body incapable of overriding his shut-down. With the last ounce of energy he had left, Wonwoo made the call. 

It took nearly five rings for a panting, out of breath Soonyoung to answer, knowing his roommate all too well to think this was a pleasure call. “Won, I’m in practice, what’s up?” 

The silence that greeted him was all the information he needed. He spoke up again, “Are you safe?”

 _Safe_ meaning _home_. Wonwoo made a noise in response, somewhere between ‘hyung’ and a whimper.

Soonyoung’s end of the call went silent, but he didn’t end the call. Wonwoo’s inability to form words kept him from asking, but the call picked back up quickly. “I’ve asked one of the members to lead practice. I’ll be home in five minutes. Stay on the line with me, okay?” Soonyoung spoke soothingly, as if his words could reach out of Wonwoo’s phone to hug him tightly. His question wasn’t a question, just a _reassurance_. The call stayed mostly quiet, little noise but the opening and closing of doors, the starting of a car, the gentle hum of the car ride, before he heard a whisper from Soonyoung, “I’m coming up the stairs. Can I open the door?” 

Wonwoo processed this just barely enough to shift, sitting down facing the door. The door knob gave a quick turn, but the door opened painfully slowly as Soonyoung’s eyes fell down to spot Wonwoo on the ground, long legs out in front of him and hands resting in his lap. The phone was discarded, but Wonwoo’s eyes were still stuck on the phone before eventually looking up to meet Soonyoung’s. 

A soft ‘oh’ fell from the older boy’s lips. 

Soonyoung didn’t move quickly, didn’t rush to Wonwoo’s side, instead opting to gingerly sit in front of the slightly shaking boy. The older crossed his legs, placing his hands on his knees carefully. Wonwoo didn’t cry. Soonyoung hadn’t seen him cry in so, so long, and the unshed tears welling in Wonwoo’s eyes scared him. Each tear represented something that Wonwoo had hid from him, or maybe they were just symbols of Wonwoo’s overwork, of being worn out. He always pushed himself so hard, and Soonyoung was only able to take care of the younger in small ways. Wonwoo had always been more like the hyung, but in desperate, exhausted times like these, he fell back into his role as the younger. They were _brothers_ , even if not confirmed by blood, and Soonyoung had noticed his mounting anxiety. Wonwoo’s eyes finally flashed with distress as one single tear rolled down his cheek. Soonyoung’s eyes followed the tear until it hesitated at Wonwoo’s chin, then falling silently to the floor. A brief moment of silence passed, suspended in the air between them, until Soonyoung felt his own eyes stinging. Another tear fell, then another, then Soonyoung couldn’t hold it anymore and threw his arms open, Wonwoo immediately crashing forward into his embrace. Nothing was said as the two boys held each other in the entryway of their apartment. Neither of them moved until the sunset peeked through the blinds of the living room to paint the wall in a muted orange.


End file.
